Holiday Priorities
by Brendan Storm
Summary: The Holidays have arrived and Batman has a suprise gift.


Holiday Priorities  
  
By Brendan Storm  
  
Rating: The FRSA (Fic reader society of America) has labeled this one PG for difficult subject matter and use of the word boobies  
  
Archiving: Please ask before, but gopher it.  
  
Disclaimer: The world will end, life, as we know it will be destroyed Yada yada yada we heard it before. This is purely for entertainment, if you wrote it better we wouldn't be doin it on our own.  
  
"Feet up, Sir," Alfred said one cold winter morning as he was tidying up. Bruce had just entered from the cave and was enjoying an after patrol cocoa and cookie. Winter had never been a favorite season for the hero, none had, really. The only differences the weather made to Bruce, or rather to the vigilante known as Batman, were as obstacles or conditions to factor into situations, changes in updraft, differences in equipment choices. Also there were the fresher clues due to slower decomposition times.  
  
Bruce lifted his shoes so Alfred could slip the broom underneath. "Thank you, Sir." Alfred stopped and looked at the man. "Master Bruce, you are aware that Christmas will be upon us in merely three weeks?"  
  
"Hmmm, didn't we just do that, Alfred?"  
  
"No, sir. That was Thanksgiving. You remember the WayneTech banquet?"  
  
"Of course. Between the Shrike thing and the Tetch escape."  
  
"Precisely," Alfred said and rolled his eyes heavenward.  
  
"My secretaries have access top the budgets and the wish lists. I will be here for the Manor reception, barring any League activities and I'll make time to visit Jim this year," Bruce said methodically.  
  
"And?"  
  
"I missed something?"  
  
"Your son, your partner and the rest of the clan, as Master Timothy so puts it. Also, there is the matter of a bag that Master Clark has brought by. He said it was stuck in with his delivery this year."  
  
"Hmmm? A bag?"  
  
"I believe there are well over a thousand letters to Batman this year. You may wish to open several. I've taken the liberty of sorting several stacks of them for you."  
  
"Letters?"  
  
"Every Christmas, Superman sorts and acts on many of the letters he receives over the year. It is a Christmas tradition for him."  
  
"Where does he get the time," Bruce muttered.  
  
"It isn't a matter of time, but of Priorities."  
  
"I see." Bruce had a feeling he would lose this fight. "Call Dick and Tim and have them meet me downstairs."  
  
"Of course, Sir."  
  
*** *** ***  
  
"Dear Santa, and dear Superman I understand, Bruce. But why Dear Batman?" Dick sat in a chair at the kitchenette in the cave. Alfred had hot cider and snicker-doodles on a rolling tray. There were about three hundred letters Alfred had deemed worthy of personal attention. Tim was home for the weekend and Jack had accepted Alfred's assurances that he would be safe for the evening at Wayne Manor.  
  
"I think it's cool. We got fan mail at YJ. Mostly asking for autographs for Wonder Girl and Kon." Tim replied.  
  
Bruce sat quietly and opened one letter simply addressed to Batman.  
  
Dear Batman,  
  
Thank you for your help this year. On April first my family was part of the parade in Gotham Heights that was attacked by the Foole. We lived thanks to you. My husband says you are only an urban legend, but I saw. I caught a glimpse of you. I know you may never get this, but thanks.  
  
Janine Sentz  
  
Bruce replaced the letter carefully in the envelope and moved to the next. This was marked in Crayon.  
  
Batman,  
  
I was a good boy this year. Mom don't believe in Santa cause she's a atheist, but I got one of your BATARANGS, an I want another so my lil brother doesn't hog it.  
  
Merry Christmas  
  
Billy Tinsdale  
  
PS Here's my address, an I'll leave the window open.  
  
The next was a marriage proposal. The girl was very pretty but he did not pull the photo out past the obviously nude shoulders. Tim grabbed it out of the pile after seeing the blood run out of Bruce's face.  
  
Dick had a stricken look on his face as well. He reached over and handed a plain grey envelope to Bruce. The envelope had a return address of Stryker's Island in Metropolis.  
  
Batman,  
  
My name is Edgar Jenkins. You caught me about seven years ago for the murder of my wife and children. I understand that at the time I was in a state of rage over pot roast or something. I also wounded three policemen from Gotham City. I have enclosed letters for them as well.  
  
My execution, which has been appealed long enough according to my wife's mother, is on January first. I would very much appreciate it if you were to come and bear witness. I know now that my Lord Jesus will forgive me in the hereafter, but in this world I know I deserve this punishment.  
  
I have been an exemplary inmate and have finally gotten my GED. I've helped other inmates learn to read and have told them about you. The Word of the Lord and the threat of Batman have put many first timers on the right track. I have the addresses and letters of my friends and pen pals to prove it.  
  
It would mean a lot to me to say that I am sorry to you and the three officers I wounded before I go. Thank you for setting me straight. I hope someday I can be forgiven in this world.  
  
Edgar Jenkins, Inmate 10008976 Death Row.  
  
Bruce sat stone silent and held the three letters as well. "Alfred." He said in the Voice. "Get the car ready."  
  
"Certainly, Sir."  
  
"You ok, dad?" Dick used the word like a new glass bauble.  
  
"We need to act on this one."  
  
"Ok."  
  
"Alfred, Tim. Keep working. Look for something worthy of my time."  
  
"Sure will, sir. You want the pictures?" He held up children's drawings of Batman and Robin.  
  
"The pictures can go in a scrapbook for display in the gallery."  
  
"Cool."  
  
"Robin." Batman said as the cowl slid into place. "The other pictures get shredded."  
  
"Awww, but she has a tattoo of the bat symbol on her..."  
  
"Matter of Priorities, chum. Merry Christmas." 


End file.
